


La Llorona

by alan713ch



Series: Waiting for the Darkness [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Lots of OC's, Multi, True Alpha!Scott McCall, both pre and post columbine, everybody in the pack gained something from the nemeton, everybody is a badass, mexican mythology, new season, part of a series, scott is a true alpha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alan713ch/pseuds/alan713ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and his pack are entering the Spring semester of their Junior year with an ominous warning on their heads: there will be someone to judge them for taking in the powers of the Nemeton and ensure they won't go over their heads with it. Also, the idea of Scott's godmother keeps gnawing them, particularly Melissa, since she still remembers the night she summoned her - seventeen years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So! First episode of my fourth season! Thanks for stopping by!
> 
> First of all, a reminder: this is a serialized work, and it may be too hard to follow without reading the previous work. The series is called Waiting for the Darkness. 
> 
> Second, I am integrating a lot of Mexican mythology in this work. As a matter of fact, some chapters are straight adaptations of "Leyendas", the Mexican version of folk tales. If you are curious about it, don't be shy and hit me up on my tumblr (alan713ch.tumblr.com). I'll try to answer them with as little spoilers as possible. 
> 
> Last but not least, many many thanks to the amazing lightningrani for being my beta. Everybody go and read her Lydia fics - they are fantastic. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this work since I am literally pouring my soul and my grandma's stories into it. Thanks for stopping by!
> 
> Oh, and before I forget - the prologue of this episode has a soundtrack! It's the same song as the title of the episode, and [ this version](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gQ31m4Yt0s) in particular fits the tone of the chapter. In Spanish.

Richard Greenberg did not have a good life. 

He had been bullied and attacked all his life up to when he turned sixteen. It had become pretty obvious to the basketball team that he was not in love with any of the girls in the school, and that he would sometimes linger to watch some of the boys in the locker room, so they decided to give him a lesson. It was horrible, particularly because the boy he really really liked had been one of those who had attacked him in the lacrosse field. Where he had died. He made his purpose to haunt them, particularly _him_ , so he would never forget what he had done. Of course it had backfired spectacularly when he found out that Robert Finstock, his crush - and apparently the guy who harbored a crush on _him_ , oh the irony - was a medium and had the power to keep him in the living world, as something that was neither alive, nor dead. 

And that's how their little tango had begun. Suddenly he found himself attached to Bobby, so he would go wherever he would go, and be part of whatever he was a part of. He ended up going to college with him, and everybody thought they were roommates. When Bobby got a job in the city everybody thought he was the squatter nobody paid attention to. When Finstock was fired and decided to go back home and teach Economics in their old high school, everybody thought Greenberg was just another student in the sea of hormones that reigned in Beacon Hills. Yeah, he was stuck as a sixteen year old boy, and nobody even noticed he was _dead_.

Well, not lately. Ever since McCall and his pack had gone and waken the Nemeton it seemed that his clock had finally started moving forward. He was no longer stuck as a sophomore - now people assumed he was a junior. The counselor had shown up an interest in him, but that was probably because she was a druid, and now she was dead - he had seen her ghost when the Samhain shitshow had happened. Melissa McCall now paid attention to him whenever she saw him in the mall, or when he had to follow Bobby into the hospital. The McCall pack also talked to him every once in a while, particularly Mahealani and Martin, since they were the ones interested in the history of Beacon Hills, or at least the couple decades he knew as a revenant. It was a privileged position to be a witness, neither alive nor dead. All in all this movement forward seemed to be good for him, but it also meant he could not only _pretend_ to be a student anymore. Apparently now there were records of him, and he was expected to turn in homeworks, and the most interesting bit had been when Jennifer Blake had told him she needed to meet his parents. Since they were both elders in the Beacon Retirement Home, that was not gonna happen. 

So yeah, he was dead but not without responsibilities. He had gotten himself a job at the fro-yo stand, enough to pay for school supplies, and he would abuse the public library as well as the school computers in order to get his homeworks done. He also may or may not have cheated in a couple of tests.

It still fascinated him that he didn't need to buy clothes. He could just wish for an outfit and it would appear. And yet, he could show up naked and probably only Lydia Martin would notice. 

A banshee. That was weird. Literally she was a creature that would commune with the dead. With things like him. Not that Beacon Hills had that much of a ghost population - halved chick had been fun to talk to when she was around, but she was so obsessed in trying to get in touch with her brother that they didn't interact much - but Lydia could, more than anyone else. Even if he always felt he had to look at her with reverie. Like she was a queen or something. 

Even the woods called her that, the Queen of Ghosts. 

He chuckled - that was ridiculous. She was more alive than any ghost would ever be.

He reached his grave. Most of the time he had to spend it really close to Bobby, but by the end of their seventh year together Greenberg realized that his 'home' was his grave, and therefore could always go back there. First he had only been able to do it by teleportation - haunting, if he wanted to get technical - but later he found out he could just walk to it. It was a really good time off, relaxing, letting his mind calm down, go back a little to the place where he was nothing but a ghost, not a construct that mocked up the living by his mere existence. It was also the place where he would keep his shit, since nobody - not even Bobby, who believed him alive - visited him. 

_Ay de mi, Llorona, Llorona, Llorona, llevame al río_.

It was midnight on a Sunday in the middle of January and it had just stopped raining. Who the fuck would be singing in the graveyard?  
He tried to locate the voice, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere.

_Tápame con tu rebozo, Llorona, porque me muero de frío_.

'Frío' was Spanish for cold, he remembered that from high school Spanish. And as soon as he thought that, the temperature _dropped_ , like a lot. 

_Wait a second_. He was a revenant. He was not supposed to feel cold. He had forgotten what it was like to feel cold. 

And yet, he felt _cold_. 

There was a light fog going through the graveyard, barely clouding the gravestones. He looked around, trying to see where it was coming from - if it was from up north, it would stay there for a while, but he couldn't pinpoint it. Like the voice, it seemed to be coming from everywhere. 

Which is to say, from nowhere at all. 

_Salías del templo un día, Llorona, cuando al pasar yo te vi_. 

Walking around, Greenberg noticed that some of the graves had fresh flowers. Really fresh flowers - someone was dropping them right then. He started seeing a pattern in those graves - they were the ones of those whose death had been caused by something supernatural. And the flowers were all the same - a bouquet of yellow marigolds tied with a purple ribbon.

_Hermoso huipil llevabas, Llorona, que la virgen te creí_.

He finally spotted the source of the song - and the flowers for that matter. A woman was walking through the graveyard, singing in a low key voice, raspy, like she had been a drunk all her life and the alcohol had burned her vocal chords. She was dressed in a white dress and her head was covered with a black and lacey shroud. She was carrying a basket with the bouquets, and each time she found a grave she liked she would drop to her knees and place the bouquet carefully, before standing up again and continuing her walk. 

_No sé que tienen las flores, Llorona, las flores del camposanto_.

He approached her slowly. Something inside of him told him he was in the presence of greatness. That he was so beneath this woman, whoever she was, that he should be approaching her on his knees and his head vowed. He had to use all his strength not to do so. 

_Que cuando las mueve el viento, Llorona, parece que están llorando_.

"Excuse me? Who are you?"

"Hello, Richard. You know who I am."

He did. She looked beautiful, a woman in her sixties or seventies, one of those rich ladies that you could tell had been beautiful in their youth and were beautiful in their old age. Not that she was sixty or seventy. She was so old calling her sixty would've been a huge compliment if she had cared for things like youth. Or time. Or beauty.

_Ay de mí, Llorona, Llorona, Llorona de un campo de lirio_.

She kept walking and humming, but the lyrics could still be heard. Everywhere and nowhere. 

"Why are you here?"

"I'm everywhere and nowhere, Richard. That my physical form is here is merely a whim of mine."

"That tells me nothing."

"And why would I tell you anything? Where would the fun be in that?"

Greenberg gulped. He had been looking for her for a long time, and now that she was here he was speechless. 

_Aquel que no sabe de amores, Llorona, no sabe lo que es martirio_.

"Besides, I want to meet him. And his friends. His _pack_."

"The guardians."

"Poor things. So young."

"You don't pity them."

"Quite the contrary, Richard, I think it is what is going to make this interesting. Besides, I do have a personal stake in the matter."

"I heard the woods saying it, but I never thought it..."

"Would be true? I certainly don't take many under my wing, but he was such a cute little thing, and her mother had such a pure heart, I couldn't say no. But this was not supposed to happen. He had such a simple destiny - I guess that makes me a lousy godmother, doesn't it? Well, I'll make up to him. Do you know if he liked my gifts?"

"He's definitely been driven up to the wall because of them. Too many responsibilities."

_¿Si ya te he dado la vida, Llorona, que más quieres, quieres más?_.

"Good. That means they were _magnificent_ gifts."

"I don't think he'd agree."

"Nonsense. A good gift includes a lesson within. Otherwise I would've sent him a pair of socks."

They had reached his grave, and there was only one bouquet left in the basket. 

"Richard, it's time. It's time for you to go."

"Can I leave? Now?"

She nodded. She took the last bouquet and put it in his grave.

"You are going to judge them?"

"No. I can't, since I have a personal conflict. But I'd be here to help them. Since those who will judge them are not nice."

"Who is it?"

"What do you care? You are leaving."

"I guess I started thinking of them as friends?"

"They do say that a True Alpha can take ghosts into his pack."

"No. Bobby would've never let me."

"I will have some serious words with that medium of yours. Creating a revenant out of guilt. I'm surprised you turned out so well."

"To be honest, I think I was not well when I died and that's why I was well when I was dead."

She smiled at him, and he felt the world begun and ended in that smile. 

"Come on, Richard. It's time."

"What do I do?"

"Go."

And he watched her leave, the song still reverberating through the graveyard. He closed his eyes, and thought of letting go of everything that had kept him bound to the Earth for so long. 

The following morning, the graveyard caretaker could not explain why there were so many wilted bouquets of marigolds on the graves, and why there was a backpack with school supplies right next to one of them. He would chalk it up to a prank, and never follow it up.


	2. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he made it out alive he would _rock_ running in the lacrosse tryouts. No way Finstock would bench him after seeing him _run_.

He was running. He could hear them behind him, stalking, chasing, _hunting_. 

If he made it out alive he would _rock_ running in the lacrosse tryouts. No way Finstock would bench him after seeing him _run_.

Well, he could still bench him for all the other things but it wouldn't be for lack of endurance, Stiles was sure of that. 

_Focus_.

Stiles tried, but it wasn't that easy. Ever since defeating the Warren clan the world had turned brighter, colors were more vibrant and noises were more melodic. He could see the trails a deer had left in the woods eons ago and he could feel the way the weather would change. He was _in tune_.

Which scared the crap out of him. He would need to get his Adderall dose rechecked in case it became too much during school and made focusing on classes a burden. 

He heard a twig snap and bolted away. He felt like a deer stalked by a rifle toting man - he was sure he stopped in the same way deer do.

"Got you, Batman!"

Or more like a tiger, apparently. 

"Erica! Don't scare the crap out of me!"

She just laughed at him and he joined after catching his breath. 

"What happened to you? You were doing great until you stopped. Is there anything we should...?"

"No, no - I'm fine, it's just, remember what I said about feeling everything more... more?" Erica nodded. "I just had a moment."

"So you saw the woods more... woods?"

Stiles tried to formulate an answer that she would understand. Something that she would comprehend. 

"Here. What do you see here?"

"A trail."

"What do you smell?" Erica sniffed.

"Deer. A couple of bucks, maybe? The storm washed away most of the smell"

"Three. They passed here before the storm begun last night. I'm surprised you can smell them after that."

"I'm surprised _you_ can! Are you werewolf now?"

"I didn't smell them. I just can tell. The whole thing feels full of info now, info that I can access every second."

"That is so cool! You finally got your superpowers!"

"Yeah, well, I paid for them with their lives."

He and Scott and Allison would stay up late in the night sometimes, when all the others were fast asleep in their den, and talk about it. He could still feel the water pouring down his hands, and he sometimes wondered if it wasn't the blood of that warlock that had been impersonating his dad. Allison would summon her daggers out of thin air and twirl them, and Scott would just be quiet, looking at them with sadness in his eyes. 

"They were killing you. They wouldn't have stopped."

"I know. It still feels weird, you know? Their lives, their blood. Each of us killed one."

His dad and Derek both agreed that they needed therapy. His father argued that they needed to go through the same procedure cops went after having to kill someone on the job, and Derek had put them in touch with his own therapist from Maine. She ended up recommending someone in Chico who was willing to take them - he was aware of the supernatural, they met him when he showed up to court, since apparently Scott's territory extended all the way there. Derek had mentioned that it was bigger than his family's had ever been. Melissa was sure the woods were still answering her the first time they went to his office.

"I know."

"You haven't killed anyone."

"I came back from the dead. I think I can speak of dying pretty well."

"Not the same though."

"C'mon, Stiles, don't pity yourself. First day of school, remember?"

"You are not coming, you are going back inside and rest in our luscious den cushions..."

Erica just cuffed him on the head, but she was smiling like she knew he would be envious of that. 

Both Erica and Boyd had been adamant about going back to their families. Both had been buried by them, and neither felt like knocking at their parents' house with a smile and a bottle of wine - because they'd probably freak out, not let them go back to the pack, raise a lot of questions and probably sue Derek since he had been who delivered both of the bodies. Scott had completely disliked the idea but Stiles agreed and with the input of his dad and Mr. Argent Scott had relented, even if his smile was sad every second he looked at them. At least Cora now had study buddies - she was getting her GED, not going to school, and since she wanted to do psychiatry she needed to do well in order to go to college - because they had agreed on having the education, even if they didn't have the diploma. 

They were right - they didn't know for how long they were going to be alive. If they were just a mockery while Scott's godmother showed up, or if they were going to live forever now, since they were weird. Weird in the sense that they didn't make sense at all. 

They didn't sleep. They could eat, but avoided it. They healed like a normal werewolf and they could be knocked out (Boyd had growled at Stiles when he suggested it, and they definitely didn't try with Erica) but there was a wrongness with them that all the group knew about. Scott shrugged it (Stiles knew he actually didn't, he just pretended so they wouldn't feel ostracized) and tried to integrate them as seamlessly as possible (the bedrooms Derek had built in the new McCall manor for them definitely helped). 

They all knew someone exactly like them, but they didn't want to reach him. After all, they were already in his debt, and with the horror stories Lydia was bringing from her household they were learning that it was not a good idea to owe favors to anyone. 

"Is it weird that I actually kinda envy you? For going?"

"You could come."

"Yeah, and how would I explain my living?"

"We can say you are a far away cousin. I'm pretty sure the lawyer we got now can create a whole identity, you know, up to social security numbers and stuff."

"Nah. I don't want to be much trouble. We don't want to be much trouble."

"You guys are not trouble. You are presents."

"Yeah, and what does that mean?"

They didn't know. 

He and Lydia had already had their research kick, but what they found was fascinating, conflicting and completely weird. They knew they were dealing with a femenine aspect, but that ranged from Mictecacihuatl (only Melissa could pronounce that), the Aztec form, to Keres or even Persephone, according to some versions of the Greek myth where she went to the underworld willingly. The Polish had Smierc, and the Norse had Hel. Lydia and Erica wanted to limit themselves to the concept of Saint Death, since that's who Melissa had said she had prayed to when Scott had been born, but that meant at least six different identities, varying from sweet sleep to violent murders, and none exactly was referred as a benevolent figure. Apparently she was a very solicited figure by those who were looking protection to do illegal deeds. Something about the fact that she didn't protect you from their finality - just from the way they affected you in the short term. Also, Erica mentioned that in Argentina Death took other forms, which may or may not conflate with the ones they were aware of.

In short, they had too much information and not that many ways to direct their focus. 

Melissa had asked her to let Scott live, since he had been born underweight, before the due date and with lots of problems. Doctors were surprised when he did, and all he had to live with was his asthma. Melissa said she didn't remember what she had offered in return - Saint Death was always offered something. She remembered taking offerings to the small church (actually just a building in which an altar had been built, but a reunion point for those who believed in her) in Los Angeles, and as soon as she could arrange for Chris and his dad to take her she went again, trying to appease her. Lydia and Stiles himself had wanted to come to learn, but Melissa had felt that it was a journey she had to make on her own, and they respected her. His dad and Allison's were just to be bodyguards of the Mother of the Woods. 

Besides, the offerings ended up being a bottle of tequila and a box of cigars, and his dad had come home saying Stiles was never to go alone to that area of L.A.

"Lost in thought again, Batman?"

"You know me too well, Catwoman."

"Ha. Come on, let's go see how's everybody else doing."

They started walking back to the manor. They were joined by Isaac and Allison (she'd been chasing him) and Derek and Scott (the former chasing the latter, since Scott had his preternatural ability of telling were everybody else was, thank you Alpha). Cora and Boyd were already waiting for them in the backyard of the manor, where the woods ended, Boyd having captured Cora quite quickly apparently. They were all smiling, like their only worry was going to school, or studying for the GED or, in the case of Derek, beginning Law Enforcement Academy - the State of California had decided to open a new academy in Beacon Hills after the demand for new deputies had increased exponentially in their little county. Boyd had wanted to attend too, but both his dad and Derek had opposed vehemently (supported by Melissa and Chris) until he got a GED, even if it was under a false name. 

They were somewhat relaxed. After all, if Death was going to show up it make take her ages to - since time was something in a completely different aspect to her, right?

Seeing Lydia and Danny already in the kitchen made him regret thinking that. They were supposed to meet at school, after all.


	3. Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The office was not that much different than when Mrs. Morrell occupied it. There were the motivational posters about doing whatever you want to do (as long as it's legal) and there was a nice rack with a lot of brochures in many, many topics, including some of those his mom would bring when they had the sex talk. If anything was different from the time Morrell was the guidance counselor was the desk - the druid barely had any papers on hers, always saying that she took her notes after each session. The new counselor seemed to have stacks over stacks of papers, all of them held in place with glass paperweights: a world globe, an hourglass, an apple, a wheel. The vase in the corner of the desk was one of those things his grandma used to love so much, what were they called? Tala... mala... albatera? No, he couldn't remember - he would ask Lydia later, she would definitely know. And the flowers were smelling sweet.

"Hey guys! Weren't we supposed to meet at school?"

"Lydia? You're the one who called me." Danny looked at the redhead over his cup of coffee. She seemed distressed. Scott immediately run up to her and half hugged her, trying to imbue her with the calm being next to the alpha always brought. 

"It was Peter. He was acting really strange last night."

"Last night? I thought you send him away?" Stiles asked Lydia while everybody else started getting their breakfast ready. They had gotten in the habit of making these pack training exercises in the morning when they realized all of them - including the humans - had excess energy that had to be burned off. Scott in particular was able to feel the presence of every single member of the pack in the territory, which, from the amount of people that had shown up to hold court with him and his mom, was huge. Allison was capable of summoning her daggers at will - out of thin air; and Stiles kept saying everything was more... _more_. Danny and Lydia suddenly were even capable to hold fight with Derek, and all the werewolves said their senses were even more attuned than before. Scott suspected it was an effect of him (and Stiles and Allison) being guardians of the Nemeton. 

"I did, but the storms scare me. And last night, between my grandma saying that she wanted me there and then the storm starting out of nowhere, I guess it was enough to bring him back. Besides, I don't think he ever goes away, he just hides in the shadows so I don't see him."

"Cree-pey." Stiles said over his cereal with a sing-song voice. Lydia just looked at him disdainfully, like they hadn't been friends for the best portion of last semester. "What? He is."

"Did he say something in particular?"

"That the storms occur because there's a disruption in the energy of the Beacon. Like an arrival."

"You think it may be my godmother?"

"Who else?"

"The judge." Everybody turned to Derek. "Remember that you three are still to be trialed for taking in the power of the Nemeton. And from what we've heard, it's more probable that the judge will show up than your godmother. The whole power at stake and you three going crazy with power and all."

"Besides, we two would've felt something, right?" Erica asked. "We are tied to her as much as we are tied to you."

"Probably? Stiles, Lydia?"

"We got nothing, dude."

"So what do we do?" Danny asked everyone, but everyone looked back at him. 

Scott breathed and weighed their options. 

"Nothing. If it's my godmother, she'll show up to me. If it's the judge, they'll show up to us. There's nothing we can do now since we know nothing. Right now, we are going to school, Derek's going to go to police academy, Cora, Erica and Boyd will go to the library to study for their GEDs." Not everybody seemed happy with the idea, and he knew they still needed a look out. "Lydia, I know it's too much to ask -"

"I'll try and keep my senses up, to see if I can anticipate any deaths." Scott smiled at her. 

"Cora, Erica, Boyd?"

"We can take the long way to the library, take a tour around town, see that nothing's amiss." Boyd said. 

"Derek?"

"I'll tell John and Melissa. You guys go to school. Aren't you supposed to meet the school counselor this morning?"

"Oh, shit!" Scott went upstairs to grab a quick shower and he was soon followed by all the pack that had had training with him. Luckily he could do with a cold shower - he could already hear Stiles and Isaac fighting over the hot water. He got his stuff and went downstairs, where he saw Derek on the phone and Lydia and Danny already gone. He waived at his big brother and took his bike to the school. He had an appointment for 8:30 a.m. and he was so late he ran through the hallways until he was standing outside the door of the counselor. 

He knocked. No one answered. The door was ajar so he assumed it would be OK if he entered - he had an appointment after all. 

The office was not that much different than when Mrs. Morrell occupied it. There were the motivational posters about doing whatever you want to do (as long as it's legal) and there was a nice rack with a lot of brochures in many, many topics, including some of those his mom would bring when they had the sex talk. If anything was different from the time Morrell was the guidance counselor was the desk - the druid barely had any papers on hers, always saying that she took her notes after each session. The new counselor seemed to have stacks over stacks of papers, all of them held in place with glass paperweights: a world globe, an hourglass, an apple, a wheel. The vase in the corner of the desk was one of those things his grandma used to love so much, what were they called? Tala... mala... albatera? No, he couldn't remember - he would ask Lydia later, she would definitely know. And the flowers were smelling sweet. Oddly, they didn't smell too strong, not even to his werewolf senses.

"Yes? Who are you?"

The woman who had come through the door was the most beautiful woman Scott had ever seen, black hair and olive skin and golden eyes. Oddly, she reminded him of his mom a little bit. She was frowning at him, and since he didn't know her and she didn't seem to know him he assumed she was - 

"Hi. Are you the new counselor? I'm Scott, Scott McCall - we have an appointment?"

"Ah, yes! Mr. McCall. Sorry - I'm still getting lost in the hallways, how can you get lost in a high school, right?"

"I did for a couple days when I started."

"Come on, sit down, I don't bite. McCall, that's M-C-C-A-L-L?" She had opened the file cabinet and was going through the records. 

"Yes, Mrs..."

"Murrieta. Sebastiana Murrieta, but Mrs. Murrieta is fine."

"Yes, Mrs. Murrieta."

"Alright, let's see!" She grabbed a manila folder and closed the cabinet. She sat across of him and opened the file, putting some glasses on. "Scott McCall. Junior. GPA 3.4, it took a great hit last year - apparently you decided to focus on athletics instead? Because your grades took the hit when you started soaring in lacrosse. Lacrosse, I have no idea how that works. Anyways, summer school, brought it up and you were able to keep with your class, and it seems last semester your teachers were very aware of your improvements. Marin Morrell mentioned you have a great aptitude for leadership, and Jennifer Blake left... oh, wow, this is a whole recommendation letter! Again, leadership aptitude, capability of juggling several issues going on at the same time, a drive to help the community... People seem to like you, Mr. McCall, although I'm not sure a recommendation letter from a convicted murderer would help much in your college applications."

"I guess not."

"So, Mr. McCall, why are we here today?"

"Er, so you've seen that I don't have the best GPA - not that it is bad, but I want to go to veterinary school and I need something better than that."

"Veterinary school? You need science courses in your resume for that, Mr. McCall, and apparently you and Mr. Harris didn't agree much?"

"He had a particular way of teaching. Anyways, I was hoping you could approve me for an AP class this semester? I checked the class offerings and I know the only science related class this semester is AP Calc and I haven't taken precalc yet but if I wait until next year then I won't be able to include it in my college applications."

"It's a pretty bold move, Mr. McCall. How do I know you won't start dragging the class back? It is, after all, the main obstacle we'd see - that the teacher, in this case, me, since I'd be teaching it - would be the fact that you would be detracting the class." Scott gaped at her - he knew it was true, that he didn't have the full background. "Convince me, Mr. McCall. Think of this as a college interview - why would I take you in my class?"

"I can get a tutor. One of my closest friends is already taking online classes in Coursera about Multivariate Calculus and Differential Equations."

"I am not concerned about you getting outside help, Mr. McCall. What about athletics? Would you be willing to step down from lacrosse if your grades were not up to par?"

Scott looked at her. She was testing him, but about what Scott didn't know. The wolf wanted to rise to the challenge.

He wondered if this was how job interviews would feel like.

"My priority is to get into college. If lacrosse reaches a point where it's not helping me, either because it's no longer good exercise to keep fit - it helped me with my asthma - or because it means too much time, I'll drop it. But I'd like to point that Coach Finstock is usually very good at keeping track of his students - last year he made me drop the captaincy of the team because my grades were definitely not up to par. Not only will I put my best effort into your class, but I am surrounded with people that will help me be my best in the class. Like I mentioned, one of my closest friends is already taking online classes far more advanced that the curriculum offered here, and she's taking the class just so she has the paperwork for college. My best friend has developed several techniques to help with concentration since he has issues with that. Coach will make sure I do not prioritize lacrosse over school, the same my boss does in my job - he's always been very understanding of my academic life. I have a very healthy environment at home - my mom has always made sure I do the best at all I do, and she was the first to bring me back to line last year when I was having all those problems. I don't need to convince you to have faith in me, Mrs. Murrieta, or something like that - I only need to have faith in myself, and I do. I know I can take it."

She just raised one eyebrow at him, but turned to the computer. Scott didn't know if that was good or not. 

"Let's see - you made sure you had free periods during the class hours, didn't you? Well, that is definitely planning ahead, Mr. McCall. Alright, I signed you up, you'll need to take these forms to the principal's office." She got them off the printer and signed them, and gave them to him. "I'll see you later today, if I find the classroom on time. That should be all, Mr. McCall."

Scott couldn't help but smile at her and she smiled back. At least she seemed to have emotions - unlike Mrs. Morrell, who seemed to be mysterious even when at lunch. He got up and made his way out.

"Oh, and Mr. McCall?"

"Yes, Mrs. Murrieta?"

Something shifted in her smile, but he didn't know what. Just... something.

"It _really_ is so nice to meet you."


	4. Lydia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herself, Allison and Isaac moved towards AP Calc, outside of which Scott and Stiles were already waiting for them. The brothers had followed them too, and sure enough Danny ended up joining them accompanied by Louie. The brothers banded together and sat closer to the windows, while the pack took an interesting position with herself and Scott at the center.

"Lydia, are you sure you are OK?"

"Yeah. I mean, it could be anything whatever the storms were warning against, right? Also, how would we know when she shows up?"

"Why are you so scared of her?"

"I guess because of what I am, Danny. A banshee. I commune with the dead."

"And you are afraid she'll have some power over you, or something?"

"Exactly."

"Lydia, calm down. People will look."

Lydia had wanted to get to class early so she wouldn't have to deal with people looking at her, or worse, with Peter roaming the hallways. The rest of the pack was still getting ready when she and Danny left for the school grounds. It hadn't calmed her much, but at least she knew she had to pretend to be calm, instead of letting herself feel, like she could in the presence of the pack. So she went straight to her locker and got her books out. 

Almost clashing into a trio of boys that were coming out of the principal's office. 

"Oh, excellent! Misters Carvallo, this is Lydia Martin. She'll be your guide through the school. Mrs. Martin, this is Hugo," he pointed to the largest of the three, a boy that looked like he could squash her like a bug, but with such a smile you could tell he was a softie, "Luis," the boy in the middle, taller but skinnier, looking at his cellphone completely bored, "and Diego Francisco," the third, a head smaller, long hair, and the only one to offer a hand. "Oh, Mr. Mahealani, help Mrs. Martin guide our new students through the school." Danny had reached them, since it was obvious Lydia had to stop because of something important. "This is Daniel Mahealani."

"Nice to meet you."

"Good, move along, I've got stuff to do." The principal retreated into his office and left the students in the middle of the hallway. 

"Huey."

"Louie."

"Dewey"

"Really?"

"Mom's idea. Lydia and Danny, right?" Huey said, like he was committing their name to memory. 

"Yes. You guys just transferred?"

"Yeah, mom and dad got called for some business and now we have to live here, in the middle of Nowhere, California." The one with the cellphone, Louie, sounded bored until he looked up and looked at Danny. Then he _blushed_ "Erm, hi."

"Louie, don't be such an asshole. Sorry, we are from a big city so living in a small little town, not exactly much appeal." The third one, Dewey, said. "As a matter of fact, we went out for a run last night and all we got was drenched."

"Yeah, not a lot of stuff happens around here, except for a healthy dose of animal attacks." Danny offered.

"Is that why the FBI is stationed outside the Sheriff department?" Louie asked casually.

"Why would we know?"

"Fair."

"Lydia, don't take your stress on them."

"He started it." Huey and Dewey looked ashamed, but Louie looked like he was enjoying the bantering. Danny just raised an eyebrow at her. "Fine. I'm Lydia, this is Danny. Where are you guys going?"

"I'm going wherever the rabbit is going."

"God, you are bad at this." Danny didn't look amused at all at what Lydia guessed where Louie's attempts of flirting with him.

"Dewey and I are going to French. He's going to Comparative Literature. We apologize, mom dropped him on his head a lot when we were kids." At the face Danny made Louie's picked up.

"You are going to Comp Lit!"

"Lydia, I'll see you in AP Calc."

"See ya." Danny started walking towards his classroom, Louie on tow, looking like he wanted to flirt with Danny more. Lydia just looked at the other two who shrugged apologetically. 

"He'll get better. He tends to fall pretty hard, but as soon as he realizes Danny's not interested he'll move on."

"I have to admit Danny's cute." Huey said. "You don't need to walk all the way with us, just give us directions."

"I'm actually going to French myself, I'm just waiting on two friends of mine." Like summoned, Allison and Isaac came through the doors. "Allison! Isaac!" Both approached them. "Allison, Isaac, this is Huey and Dewey."

"Are you serious?" Isaac tilted his head whenever he was in sassy mode.

"Mom's idea."

"They have a third brother: Louie."

"Shut up!" Allison actually seemed gleeful at the idea. "Oh, Stiles is coming but since his first class is History he's running straight to the building. Any word if Scott got admitted in AP Calc?"

"Nothing. Come on, let's go - they both are going to French too and I am showing them the way." Allison grabbed her by the arm, while Isaac made small talk with both brothers. They reached the classroom where they sat in their usual seats, while both of the newcomers went through the painful ritual of being introduced to the class. The class went pretty well, with Allison answering most of the questions as usual, and herself actually focusing on trying to find out what could've disrupted the Beacon, and trying to see if there were going to be any deaths related to the pack. Not that she had much to practice on, but she knew that she needed to let her power flow in order to control it, instead of repressing it like she had tried for so long. 

Thank the heavens, nothing. 

Herself, Allison and Isaac moved towards AP Calc, outside of which Scott and Stiles were already waiting for them. The brothers had followed them too, and sure enough Danny ended up joining them accompanied by Louie. The brothers banded together and sat closer to the windows, while the pack took an interesting position with herself and Scott at the center. 

"Who are they?" Scott asked.

"New kids. Huey, Louie and Dewey."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Stiles not so discreetly turned to look at them. "Scottie, remember that mom used to have us watch DuckTales?"

"Yeah! You always wanted to be Gyro!"

"And you wanted to be Launchpad!"

"You guys watched that?"

Even though Danny's question seemed to be innocent, Stiles' eyes turned somber and Scott had to grab him. 

"It was mom's favorite cartoon. She had all the tapes."

"Sorry."

"It's alright - you didn't know."

At that exact moment, the professor came in. The new Math teacher (and from what Scott was mouthing, the new guidance counselor as well) was really pretty, and she looked like someone who knew how to dress herself pretty well, including the sensible shoes and the fancy reading glasses that hung from a chain around her neck. She also seemed pretty young.

Something that Lydia noticed was that she brought a small talavera vase and put a golden marigold in it, to brighten the room. 

"Hello! My name is Mrs. Murrieta," she didn't write it down, like most of the teachers would, "and we'll be sharing this room for one hour three times a week during this semester talking about Calculus. I know most of you already took precalc so we should be able to jump right into it next class. Today I want to learn a little about each of you, so I'll go by rolling call. Please, when I call you, tell me your name just to ensure I pronounced it correctly, and something you'd like to share to the class. Let me see: Argent, Allison?"

Allison mentioned her interest in archery. The Carvallo brothers all mentioned that they are adopted, but Huey was the sports freak of the family, Louie was actually a model back in their home city, and Dewey was good with gardening. Isaac talked about volunteering in the hospital, Danny mentioned his interest in computers, and Lydia herself talked about her interest in advanced mathematics. Scott talked about his work with Deaton. 

There were others, true, but interestingly the last name in the roll was Stiles.

"Szczesny Stilinski?"

The whole class looked at Stiles. Lydia had never heard his first name pronounced - almost everyone looked at it like some sort of abomination and then Stiles would interject with his nickname so the pain would not last long. But from the way Stiles - and Scott, for that matter - looked at her, not only had the teacher pronounced it, she had pronounced it perfectly. Stiles said something in Polish and the teacher replied in the same language.

"Do you know how to pronounce Stiles' name?" Lydia asked Scott under her breath, while the teacher replied. "Do you know Polish?"

"No - Mrs. S. taught me how to pronounce Stiles' name when we were young - because Stiles felt ostracized 'cause no one could say it."

"I didn't know that."

"No one knows that. It was our secret."

"Oh."

The teacher and Stiles had finished talking - she was explaining the syllabus to the class, and mentioning that she had sent a copy to each one on their email - and that they should all have access to the web platform they were going to use. Lydia scanned the syllabus quickly - she wouldn't have any problems at all, and would be able to help Scott if he needed to catch up. 

She was still mulling over Stiles' first name - she wanted to know what it meant - when Mrs. Murrieta declared the class over and dismissed everyone. Except Scott. 

"Excuse me, Mr. McCall? I forgot to mention - one of your parents or guardians will have to come and see me regarding you taking this class. Whenever they are free."

"Alright."

They all left the classroom together and continued with their day. At the end of it they all moved towards the lacrosse field, since tryouts were to be held by Finstock that same afternoon, and after Allison kissed Isaac (and waved awkwardly at Scott) the two girls went towards the bleachers.

"Hey, do you ladies mind if I sit with you? Idiot One and Idiot Two are trying out, and I get to wait for them to go home." Louie reached them, and Allison smiled at him. Beaming, he sat down. 

"So, what's your story?" Allison asked him.

"Hm?"

"Why here? Why Beacon Hills? You said you modeled?" Lydia pressed.

"I don't know why Beacon Hills. I wanted to stay back, but dad wouldn't listen. Yeah, I got some gigs, a couple of runway walks, I was starting out. It's not like I want to pursue it as a career, but if it helps me pay for college when I'm in NY, I'm all for it. I want to be an interpreter."

"Huh?"

"Languages?"

"I know what an interpreter is, but why New York?" Allison asked again. 

"United Nations." Lydia answered for him and he nodded. "Best place to work. How many languages do you speak?"

"Seven. Spanish, English, German, Farsi, Italian, French and Chinese. I'm learning Filipino right now."

"Oh, wow."

"I saw your face, Martin, you got a few words of whatever conversation happened between Stilinski and the Math teacher. You speak Polish?"

"Not yet. It was not high on my list of priorities. I was gunning for ASL next, but apparently now I have a motivator."

"You need motivation to learn stuff?" Allison asked her, a playful banter in her voice.

"Boredom can be a perfect motivator."

"Yeah, better than to plan a heist, right?" Allison and Lydia had to look at Louie in order to gauge if he was joking. "I'm joking!"

In order to save face, they all looked at the field. It's not like Lydia had _never_ planned a heist. She just never tried to make it happen.


	5. The Sheriff

Ever since Scott, Allison and Stiles had finally accepted the Nemeton, the town suddenly calmed down. Not that it became some sort of idyllic paradise or worse, a stepford-like town, but the criminal activity had definitely lowered, and even when they had road rage cases the parties involved were more willing to discuss it rather than take it to fisticuffs. Well, except for Steve Carlsberg who had managed to crash his truck into a streetlight and had threatened to sue the city, but it became obvious he didn't have a case. He was drunk. 

Not that he was resting. McCall was still in town, and reportedly was now bringing in a weapons expert to help him analyze the evidence against the Warrens as well as conduct a new investigation on Blake's case. John wondered how much of it was for show and how much was for this supernatural department McCall was supposed to work in, but what he really wanted was the man out of his life and not more FBI agents rolling into town. Apparently some new agents showed up that morning and that's why McCall was in the conference room, filling them in. The Federal Agent kept his guard up since they held court in December, which meant that John didn't have access to any of his meetings or any of his files, all in order to keep the investigation "as separate from court business" as possible. 

John didn't like it. McCall had definitely started acting shiftier and shiftier - but since he, as a non-supernatural entity, could not be involved directly, if they wanted to get him to talk they needed to call him to court. Since neither Melissa nor Scott were that concerned with his pressence - the matter of Scott's godmother occupying their minds more pressingly - they were not hurried into doing it, and John decided to take the matter upon his hands. Besides, he was not going to reveal the improvement in his marksmanship to McCall. 

He had gone from above average to perfect shot. Chris as well. Even Melissa had improved greatly, though not to the same level the two men had, and the shooting range owner wanted to get them into tournaments, but they knew they would attract too much attention if they did. 

They knew it was the Nemeton. It was the power they were given as payment to be its protector. Not only the Nemeton's, but Melissa's as well. 

The White Knight and the Keeper of the Ways. 

So, since he was guarding Melissa, he needed to find out what was Rafael doing - and how would it impact all of them. 

The new guys all looked pretty cookie cutter out of Quantico. Even the oldest one - he said he was picked out of grad school because of his language abilities, and ended up in the supernatural division because of his three minors in mythology. Not that he believed _before_ but it wasn't that difficult to convince him afterwards. 

All that he had found by planting a bug in McCall's office. Because McCall would not tell him anything. 

"Excuse me, Sheriff? There's someone here to see Agent McCall. He's the weapons expert?"

"Send him in - I am not too pressed at the moment." Deputy Cho nodded and brought a young man with a very familiar face. 

Alexandros.

"Mr. Karahalios, Sheriff Stilinski. Sheriff, this is Seneca Karahalios, Agent McCall's new weapons expert."

"Nice to meet you, Sheriff!" Karahalios extended a hand, plastic smile on his face. John held it a second longer than needed, trying to gauge anything from him. 

This time Karahalios was not carrying a cane, and was walking properly. His hair was cut differently, and the scars on his face were barely noticeable - as a matter of fact, John could see the make up covering them because he was looking for them. He suspected that they were invisible to everyone else. He was also dressed differently, more Wolf of Wall Street and less hipster imitating 1900's London. Even the way he talked, the way he moved, it was completely different. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Karahalios, you look oddly familiar."

_I know who you are, you are not fooling me._

"Oh, weren't you in charge of the investigation regarding my brother? He died three months ago, in a parking lot. Murder."

_I'm here and I'll keep fucking with you until I get what I want._

"I'm afraid it became a federal investigation, and Special Agent McCall has determined that it is in the best interest of the investigation for the department to be minimally involved."

_You already know all of this, what do you want?_

"Oh - then I'll rest assured that my brother's murder won't go unanswered. I still thank you for your service, Sheriff."

_I'm just messing with you - I will not call my favor any time soon._

"Anything we can do to help, Mr. Karahalios?"

_I'll be keeping an eye on you._

"Nah. I'll just wait in the lobby? I don't want to interrupt your work."

_You are not getting anything out of me, Stilinski._

"Please, I'll make sure to let you know as soon as Agent McCall is available."

Like summoned, the door to the conference room opened and the federal agents came out, last of them McCall. 

"Oh, Mr. Karahalios, good that you were able to come in today. I'll need you to help me with some blades that are attributed to our main suspect. You'll be working with Mr. de la Plata here." He pointed to the new guy that knew several languages. "Since we believe some of them might have had some sort of ceremonial use we believe his extensive knowledge in history and mythology may be useful to you."

"Oh, sounds spooky. Were these suspects some sort of cult or religious fanatics? I know I sound morbid but it would've been a kicker if my brother was killed as an offering to a god, since we are all atheists in the family." John raised an eyebrow to that comment, and he was not the only one. It was obvious Karahalios was trying to shed from the Alexandros persona a bit too hard, making this 'Seneca' look careless and even a bit impolite. However, what truly caught John's attention was the look de la Plata gave the kid - it was not surprised, nor exasperated, nor it was the look the Sheriff had expected, that one of utter fascination and fear that had been on Scott for most of his shenanigans with Stiles. 

No, that look had been cold, and oddly calculating. 

"What? I'm a weapons expert - I deal with death and blood and carnage every single day I decide to work. Of course I'm gonna make fun of it in a morbid way. Besides, Alex loved those jokes - I'm honoring him by making them."

That didn't need to be a lie in order not to be believed. Even Deputy Cho, who had come in with some folders for the Sheriff, had looked at him awkwardly. 

"Anyways, where are these weapons?"

"Containment. Stilinski, could you do us the honors?"

One of the small victories John had is that if the department was to be removed from the investigation, he was to be informed of every single movement that happened in his station. That included access to evidence, since it had to be stored in situ, and Rafael could not have independent access to it - which meant John could keep an eye on him. 

They entered the cramped room and navigated the rows and rows of accumulated trinkets and weapons until they reached what they were looking for. The Warren house had been raided and the basement had been found filled with weapons of different kinds: swords, daggers, garrotes, all that could be chalked up to ritualistic killing and/or fanatics. No firearms. The cupboards had turned out to be filled with several herbs and plants that had taken several toxicologists to analyze completely, since they included some herbs endemic to other countries - and therefore, illegal to be possessed without an express permit from the FDA. In short, the charges piling against the last three Warrens were too many. 

And they couldn't explain the disappearance of their matriarch, or were very reluctant to do so. 

John knew McCall would not come after the pack, since he had sworn so in court. But it still nagged him, the amount of detail, the combing through that his former friend was doing. Like he wanted to find any sort of crack that would leave them in a bad position. 

"So, what do we have here? Hm, athames, of several kind. Nice! I love this - British broadsword, probably 19th century - I'll have to look it up more closely. Oh, look, another one! OK, OK, I feel like a kid in a candy store - which one I'm supposed to be looking at?"

"All of them."

"All of them? What? Why? I thought I was looking at possible weapons used in ritualistic murders? A broadsword wouldn't, trust me, unless they beheaded someone. Did they?"

"No. Still, all these were recovered from the house of the suspect. We'll need a full catalog, possible purposes and records. De la Plata here will help you with getting them sorted out and cataloged, and they'll be sent to a laboratory in Sacramento to analyze for blood residues."

"Why hasn't that been done already? They were seized a couple of months ago?"

"Some... administrative issues." The Sheriff could understand the message hidden behind McCall's words as well as Karahalios. And from the looks he was giving them, the FBI agent as well. "No worries, now we have access to a full lab, with all the proper credentials. Let me know if you need anything else. Stilinski, do you want to have any of your deputies here?"

"Actually, yeah - handsome fella, he's going through deputy academy right now and is volunteering to work at the station. He's coming right over - ah, he's here!" John turned to receive Derek into the room, wearing his uniform from the Deputy Academy as well as a badge that said 'Volunteer' in black letters against a white background. He was smiling - he looked like an overgrown puppy when he smiled without his beard. Both McCall and Karahalios made a face when they saw him, and even De la Plata seemed to be distressed by his presence.

"Sir?" De la Plata was the first to talk, "Is he even allowed in the premises? He's still in training, does he have enough clearance to have access to our investigation?"

"Oh, he won't. He's just here to watch over you while you sort stuff in the room. He won't talk to you, he won't interfere with you, he'll be basically a statue looking over you. He'll report back to me and I'll let you know if you disrupted my Station in any way. Derek, this is Mr. Karahalios and this is Mr. De la Plata."

"Nice to meet you, sir, sir."

"And I'm out." The Sheriff walked towards the exit, pretty sure that McCall would follow him. He'd barely made it out the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to forcefully turn him around. He just grabbed it and made a movement to twist it, getting a yelp out of the FBI agent. "Don't do that again, McCall, you know I am military trained."

"And apparently still think you are in the field. What the hell was that about?"

"What?" It's not easy for someone over forty to get away with an innocent look but John tried it anyways. 

"Why Hale? He's not even a deputy!" McCall tried to keep their conversation hushed, giving a comical increase to the pitch of his voice. 

"He's training for it. He has lots of free time. He volunteered to help even while he's getting his training - after all, we've had several losses lately. The same reason why we have a police academy now, all thanks to the taxes of the people from the State of California. I was not going to turn him away."

"And you are going to tell me that this is not a plan of yours to keep an eye on me."

"I made it clear that I'd be keeping an eye on you a long time ago, McCall. And I'll use my best men to do it."

"You won't interfere with my investigation."

"Of course not, McCall. I want to help."

It was evident the frustration would not leave McCall's face. Pretending it was not giving him joy, John retreated to his office.


	6. Danny

For such a worrisome beginning, Danny's day was turning out alright. Maybe they had all overreacted to Peter's warning? Maybe they had just been normal storms, they did happen every once in a while, it's not like everything they did would be surrounded by magic now. 

He still had tried to use his powers to discern any sort of magical disturbance. Nothing, nada, zilch. Not even the new kids - he used AP calc to look at them and all he got was three boring human beings. 

Well, actually two boring human beings and one that had really bad pick up lines. He tried, and he was cute, but he was not Danny's type (too gangly and skinny, for starters), and he was getting a bit exasperating. 

Besides, last time he had hooked up with the new kid shit happened. And Louie wouldn't stop calling him 'rabbit' and that reminded Danny of Ethan. Or at least, of Halloween and how Aiden apparently thought Danny was just a bunny for his twin to fuck. 

"Everybody! I want you ready in three minutes or you won't be trying out!"

Danny was alright - he had done changing into his gear a couple of minutes ago. Of course Stiles wasn't ready yet - he and his extreme amount of limbs apparently always had trouble even changing clothes - and Danny couldn't help but wonder if him seeing 'more', whatever that was, would not be affecting him somehow. He had definitely been a bit distracted during Calc, but that seemed to be his usual level of not paying attention. Scott was urging him and Isaac was just rolling his eyes at them. 

At least he had a kindred spirit. 

There were lots of freshmen and surprisingly, two of the three Carvallo brothers - not Louie, thank the gods. He noticed Dewey had some sort of binding shirt but from the way Huey was standing protectively around him he decided better not to ask. Not that it was his business anyway. 

They went all outside - the field was already prepped, and there were some people on the bleachers, including the rest of the pack (Louie was sitting with them), some of the teachers (Mrs. Murrieta apparently had brought her dog, and she was sitting next to the new music teacher who seemed to be explaining her something) and some of the usuals that liked to hang out and see the team practicing. Beacon Hills was known for not having too much of a scene, and for some watching the high school team practicing was a good way to spend an afternoon.

"Danny! I want you on the goal! McCall! Show these children how it's done!"

Scott smiled at him while they both got their face masks on, and moved to their respective positions. It was your basic shot, to see who had enough coordination to actually make the team, and who needed some training, like Stiles. Scott started flinging with his stick, showing off a little bit and Danny couldn't help but laugh at the little bit of recklessness his alpha was showing. It wasn't common that he unwind. 

Still, he caught the first ball. 

"Woah! It seems that you are a bit off your game, McCall! I want to see what you showed me last year! Or you don't got it anymore?"

"Don't worry, Coach, I got it!"

Scott's second shot was much more calculated, and Danny almost missed it. As a matter of fact, it counted as a goal since it had entered the area before he could actually catch it.

"Lahey! Next!"

Isaac was even cockier, but his shots were easy to catch - the third was the winning one. 

"Alright! You've seen last year's two best players and the best goalie of the State. Everyone else, line up - your goal will be to try and pass Danny. Doesn't matter if you can - I doubt you will - but how you do it. Everybody line up!"

"Coach, what about me?"

"What about you, Stilinski?"

"I'm not one of your best players? I totally won the final last year!"

"OUT OF SHEER LUCK! NOW GO MAKE THE LINE!"

Stiles went running to the end of the line while Coach talked to Scott, who seemed to be placed in a position to _observe_ rather than play. So he was going to be Captain this year - if Jackson had deigned himself to keep their friendship up he would've skyped him just to see his face turn beet red in anger. 

The new kids were so-so. There were good shots, there were decent shots, there were terrible shots. Stiles ended in the decent pile, which was an improvement from last year but did not guarantee him a position in first line, but was definitely an improvement from his general performance last year. Running with wolves had done wonders for his friend. 

The surprise of the day were the Carvallo brothers. 

He had a very hard time stopping their shots. Even with his ability to see them coming before they happened they were a bit too exact and he almost missed both of them. Coach ordered them to go again and they almost got him again. Scott kept looking at them and he was sure the rest of the pack was also paying attention, but he couldn't sense anything off from them - they were normal, high school kids. 

Or if they were something, they were completely unaware. Like Lydia was a long time ago. 

They did some standard drills, explaining some bits of rules and practice to those that were not completely familiar with lacrosse, and some exercise to identify who would need more conditioning and who would need more hand-eye coordination training. Tuesday would be the day when they had an actual game to determine who would be first line and who would be bench. 

"Alright everybody, pack up - I'll see you tomorrow!"

Coach let them walk back to the locker room. They immediately convened. 

"What do you think?"

"Well, they are really good, but they are nothing special."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I saw them."

"He did." Danny looked at Stiles. "What? I saw you all whitey glowy."

"Wait, you could tell I was trying to see if they were magic?"

"Yeah..."

"You couldn't before. Do you think it's the Nemeton?"

"Maybe? I still don't know what this is, to be honest. Sometimes I'm overloaded with info and sometimes I just see... things..."

"Not the point right now." Scott stopped them. "Do we have any reason to suspect them?"

"I can do a quick background check as soon as I get my computer - look for any inconsistencies. The girls can help me - they are the ones that spotted the inconsistencies in Karahalios' papers."

"I can go and talk to them. Use the opportunity to smell them." Isaac said casually. 

"Not now. Huey seems to be particularly overprotective of Dewey in the showers?"

"As soon as they are done, then."

They all hit the showers and got clean. When they were done Isaac approached the brothers and chat them up a bit. Danny would've done it but he wanted to see them more clearly with moonlight.

He could see the wolf outlining under Isaac, _canis lupus rufus_ , that was sniffing them, but they were perfectly normal. 

"Danny!" Danny actually jumped when Coach called him. The whole locker room did as well. "In my office, now!" Danny followed inside, and closed the door behind him. "What do you think you are doing?"

'What do you mean, Coach?"

"You are using your powers in public! What are you, a seer? An empath?"

"A moonsinger... Wait, you saw me too? First Stiles and now you?"

"I can see you because I'm a medium. I see energy - whether it manifests as ghosts, as aura, or as you glowing with moonlight! What were you looking for?"

"I was trying to see if the Carvallo were anything, you know, supernatural. Their shots were too good."

Coach made a face at him, got up, opened the door and looked around the locker room and closed it again. 

"Nothing, they are human. Are you sure you are not just a little bit jealous?"

"Maybe? Sorry Coach, it won't happen again."

"Damn straight it won't. I don't care I already pledged to attend the pack, I am still your teacher and you will respect me, got it?"

"Yes, Coach."

"Now get out, I need to find myself someone else to yell at."

Outside, Stiles, Scott and Isaac were waiting for him. Danny explained quickly what happened and Isaac agreed that they both smelled human, even if Dewey reeked of medicine. Scott took it that they were normal, and decided that they couldn't do anything. He decided that right now, all they'd do would be a background check on them and keep their eyes open. Maybe they were just human - after all, they haven't received a petition to meet the court, which they'd have to do if they were magical. 

He put it on the back of his mind. There was something else that was nagging him, even if he couldn't put it exactly in words. 

Luckily for him, it was also bugging Stiles as well. 

"Has anyone seen Greenberg?"


	7. Cora

"What do you think?"

"Erica, will you please stop hitting on every single male that comes in? We are trying to help Cora with her syllabus."

"I don't mind. We both are doing the appraisals."

"Go figures."

They were sitting in a small crook in Beacon Hills Public Library. Both Boyd and Cora had some precalc books opened and were pouring over the math section of the GED. Erica had been reading all the time, except for every moment a guy entered the library and she decided to evaluate him depending on his hotness level. At some point Cora decided to join too because damn, the boys in her hometown were hot. 

Besides, studying was putting her on the edge - she needed to be moving, running, tracking their possible threats. Instead, she was sitting trying to make sense out of letters that turn into numbers and viceversa. So looking at the man candy that showed up was a way to keep the wolf entertained while Boyd was trying to explain algebra to her. 

To be honest, Cora was envious of the way both of them were capable of sitting down and read, particularly Erica. Even when Cora had been committed she had let the wolf take over for too long, and it always preferred to run than stay still. 

Erica lowered her eyes and took notes - on the book she was reading, not the boys. Boyd had to check. 

"What are you reading?" Cora asked her. Erica had disappeared when they got to the library just to find them inside with several books under her arms. They were history, but none of them were on the recommended book list. "How do you do it?"

"How do I do what?" Erica asked back.

"Read so much. I've seen you in the house - you read. You two read a lot. I can barely stay still for an hour before wanting to punch something. You guys are awake even all night and yet you are still very calm. And you read."

Erica's smile lowered at the corners. Cora immediately felt a shift in her stance - and felt like apologizing. She hadn't meant to bring out painful memories. 

"There's not much you can do when you are lying back on a hospital bed, waiting for the doctor to tell you that thank god you didn't hurt anything during your latest seizure, but you need to be more careful, yadda yadda yadda. It became a part of me, a book - I remember how excited I got when my mom was able to buy me a Kindle, because then I could have thousands of books. Of course I ended up using it so much the battery burned out pretty quickly. I fought with my mom because she couldn't afford another one. So we went back to paperbacks from Goodwill."

"I'm sorry."

"What for? It was not your fault that I had epilepsy, was it?"

"No - but..."

"Hey, don't sweat it wolf girl, I've got what I wanted." Erica smiled at her. "You know, you are much funnier when we are not cooped up together without access to the full moon."

"I've never been good locked up."

"But weren't you...?" 

"Dear god, no! It's not like the horror movies. I actually had a full room for myself and stuff, and the gardens were big and connected to the forest. I had a guard - she was a very nice witch, she gave me a pendant that would keep track of me and let me know when I was too far away. I was allowed to run as long as I checked in once every hour. I became very good at sprinting since you can't cover much distance in an hour."

"Wow, media does create a picture you want to scrub out of your head, doesn't it?"

The girls smiled at each other. Erica went back to her book and Cora decided to imitate her, trying to make sense out of the equations. 

"And it's a chronicle of Beacon Hills. Written in 1928, by someone related to you."

"Who?"

"Jeremiah Hale."

"No idea."

"No worries. It's not like I've memorized my whole family tree either."

"Anything interesting?" Boyd had finally caught up on the fact that they were not going to talk about math anymore.

"I'm not sure, or at least, not yet."

"What are you looking for?" Boyd started tilting his head, like he was seeing something Cora wasn't.

"I'm trying to find out the moment the Nemeton died."

"Why?" 

"Because of what Chris Argent said once - when we were swapping stories, remember? When a Nemeton dies usually plagues, droughts, bad luck follows. If the Nemeton died suddenly then something must've happened to Beacon Hills."

"But I thought this Nemeton had withered. That it had died naturally. Didn't it?" Cora was the one ask now.

"Yeah, well, a thousand years old oak doesn't die quickly. And the town is not even three hundred years old. Something must've happened."

"It is a stump." Cora agreed. "Trees don't magically become stumps."

"What do you think could've caused this?" Boyd asked the girls.

"I don't know. It's what I want to find out." 

"Have I mentioned how hot you are when you read?" Boyd started making faces at Erica. 

"Ugh, you are obnoxious. Shut up." But it was evident Erica was enjoying the attention. Cora went back to her book and tried to finally solve the problem she'd been working on for a while now. 

But it started nagging her memory, what Erica had said. That the Nemeton had been brought down before. 

"Give me that."

"Alright." Erica gave her the book and she started skimming it - there were lots of pictures in grey and sepia, of people, buildings, constructions. It was evident that the name Hale was prevalent in most of them - even if it was in passing. The Hale trust helped built the library. The Hale family fortune. The Hale Charitable Trust. The Hale Scholarship for exceptional students. Hales, Hales, Hales. 

Cora suddenly realized she didn't know anything about her family at all. 

"Hey, you alright?"

"What?"

Erica and Boyd were looking at her, heads tilted. She recognize the same expression Laura used to have whenever she visited her in the hospital - concern and worry behind what looks like a jape or a joke. 

"Yeah, fine. Just... I didn't know we were so entrenched in the town's history. Look at all of this: basically ever single important event has the Hale name attached to it, and this is before 1928."

"You didn't... You didn't realize?" Boyd stared, memories behind his eyes. "When I was a kid, the carnivale was brought by the Hale family."

"Yeah, Mom mentioned it, but..."

"My parents received help from the Hale trust once, when my dad was between jobs and we couldn't pay for my meds. I was seven, I think?"

"I - I didn't know."

"Did you guys talk about it?"

"No. I mean, we knew we were rich - big house in the middle of the woods and all that jazz, but we never talked about anything particular respect to town. Mom was secretive, yes, and it's not like we cared much about these things. I guess I hadn't realized how much of a big deal we were in town. People treated us normally - I mean, I had friends, you know?"

"We know."

Cora went back to the chronicle, completely fascinated by it now.


	8. Derek

"So, how did it go?"

They were all in the McCall dining room - Derek had brought Chinese for everybody. 

"It was... interesting." Derek answered Scott while serving himself some orange chicken. Stiles had already wrestled with his father about having more veggies than any other thing and Isaac and Danny were fighting over the spring rolls. Scott and the Sheriff had their undivided attention to him, same as Lydia, Allison and Melissa. "Karahalios was very quiet most of the time, either examining or pretending to examine the weapons and taking notes. The FBI guy was also very quiet, but he was willing to give some commentary. Karahalios never pointed out if he was right or wrong though - I would've expected him to be 'that's not how it happened' or something."

"He knows how to put on a show." Danny said through a mouthful of spring rolls. "He had us fooled for a couple months."

"He would've kept us fooled if he hadn't died in front of you." Stiles retorted messing with chopsticks.

"Yeah, there's that."

"So there was nothing suspicious?"

"Well, the whole set up looked hokey to me." The Sheriff answered Scott. "He's fishing. He's building the case against the Warrens but that should not be taking so many resources as he is using."

"Do you think he's building a case against us?" Melissa asked, eating a portion of the food in front of her. 

"Seems like it, but I wouldn't know why. It's not like we didn't end up handling the whole mess last time." The Sheriff shrugged before eating some lo-mein.

"Could he be looking for something specific? And instead of asking us for it he's trying to force us into giving it?" 

"Why would he do that?" Isaac turned to Lydia, frowning. 

"Because he'd become indebted to us if we were to gave it to him. Or at least, he'd expect us to get him to agree to a deal rather than give it to him freely." Derek knew that Lydia had went ahead and found out everything about the fae, being one herself. And fae are known for dealing in debts. 

"Does this mean he's working on his own? He'd be wasting federal resources on a personal vendetta, and I could get him reported on that." John mentioned between noodles.

"I don't know. Only one person would know more than any of us." Derek looked at Lydia, afraid that he may be betraying her by saying so, but her face was still as stone. 

"Fine."

And as if he had been there the whole time, Peter appeared from the kitchen. 

"You called, mistress?"

"Tell us about the supernatural division in the FBI."

Derek listened to his uncle talk. He had never been involved in any discussions regarding the future of the family, because as long as Laura was alive she was going to be the alpha, and he could do whatever he wanted as long as he kept within the family. He knew Peter was involved in most of the conversations both because he had a sharp mind and a stupid need to know everything. He had been like Stiles like that, except for the part where he had wanted to get Paige to be a werewolf and ended up killing her instead. Besides, Peter had always liked reading, and the Hale library had been a huge repository, all lost in the fires he had brought upon his family. 

"Derek..."

Scott had nudged his hand on top of his, letting the warmth spread. Cora switched seats with Allison immediately, and in a moment Erica and Boyd and Isaac where close enough. Even Lydia - though she hadn't take her eyes off Peter, nobody had - had approached him. 

"So basically, they are a bunch of humans that like to watch out but not interfere, and mostly are there to keep track of it. That sounds like a waste of time." The Sheriff drowned his words in water. Melissa nodded her agreement. 

"Do they interact with hunters much?" Danny looked at Chris. 

"No. We like to lay low - because being on their radar actually dampens our capabilities. I do run a Security Consulting Business - I have to get licenses and paperwork, and raising flags would not be good for the business."

"I thought the whole thing was a front?"

"It is, but it's not a ghost. If it were, money would've run out a long time ago."

"What did you use to do before? The Argent family, I mean?" Stiles asked, mouth stuffed. 

"We've always dealt in weapons, all the way back to Gevaudan. It's the perfect cover."

"So either he is acting alone - and wasting resources, or the FBI wants something from us." Lydia concluded.

"Should we call Mr. Lee? We may need legal help." Scott asked.

"Maybe. If any, we all should add his name to speed dial." Derek confirmed.

"Dude, I already have like twenty numbers!" Stiles complained. Everybody was taking their phone out. "Shouldn't we built some sort of phone tree? Like everybody call someone first instead of everybody trying to call everybody?"

"Sounds like a good idea. Wanna build it?" Scott grinned.

"I'll do it." Danny replied. "I can try and device an algorithm of responses depending on what we do and what time are we doing, and I can even set up a master phone number that'll ring the appropriate person depending on the hour."

"You can do that?"

Danny just smiled at Derek. 

"You know," Scott said, "I wish something would happen. This of us being in the dark is more stressful than anything." He swallowed. "Anyways - Erica, Cora, Boyd, how was the library?"

"You mean to ask if we saw or felt anything?" Erica grinned. Like Boyd, she wasn't eating anything at all. "Nothing. The amount of hot dudes Derek's age in the library was particularly high, though."

"What's your standard?" Lydia asked.

"We counted eight in the span of three hours. Bear in mind that it was a weekday - don't they have jobs? Or school?"

"Well, there's no college nearby, so they wouldn't be in college. They were probably using the internet connection - how many do you think are bloggers?"

"Are we seriously discussing this right now?" As much as Derek liked to think he was loosening himself up, it was a pack meeting to discuss the arrival of either Scott's godmother or their judge, not the hotness of guys. 

"Aw, Derek, you are no fun." Erica blew a kiss to him and he couldn't help but smile at her. It seemed that everybody else's followed. 

"So nothing in town. And Danny didn't see anything about the Carvallo brothers, and I didn't smell anything from the new counselor. So far the only weird thing is the fact that nobody has seen Greenberg."

"The revenant spirit?" The crowd looked at Peter, and he ducked his head in shame at Lydia for having spoken out of place. 

"Yes, the revenant." Lydia answered. "Why? What do you know?"

"Nothing, mistress. It's just that it would be wise to find him if he's missing. After all, Scott's godmother is supposed to be a manifestation of Death, is she not?" Scott's mom sombered at his words, but nodded. "If that's the case she holds power over spirits. She may have reached him."

"And done what?" Lydia asked her pet. 

"I don't know."

"Peter, you mentioned a name last night."

"The White Lady."

"Mrs. McCall?" Lydia turned to Melissa. 

"I'm not sure. I mean, it is one of the names the latin american version holds, yes - but it's usually associated with love and marriage, I think?"

"Death with love and marriage?"

"Everything dies, Isaac. Even contempt, hatred, dislike. It is said that some people ask for the favor of love - not because she can grant love, but because she can make other feelings wither and die."

"That's scary."

"You tell me."

"Mom, what happened? Why is she my godmother?"

Derek recognized the hunch in the shoulders: Melissa had braced herself. Scott hadn't asked her directly during the past month - ever since they had received her presents. But Derek knew it was something that couldn't be put off for long. He had intended to ask her himself, believing that she didn't want to tell Scott about it. 

"I've told you before - you were born prematurely, and had to spend some time in the incubator. Small lungs, underweight, you were not even breathing properly. Doctors said you didn't have a chance to live - and if you did, you'd probably do so with several health consequences. I... I had stopped believing in God a long time ago, but I found myself going to the small chapel in the hospital over and over. My feet would just carry me there, and Rafael would find me there, asleep on the prie-dieu. I'd pray to God, to Jesus, to the Virgin Mary. I'd pray to the Virgin of Guadalupe - La Guadalupana, your grandmother called her - and to the Lady of Lourdes. I'd pray to St. Peter, St. Michael, St. Raphael, St. Gabriel. I'd pray and pray and pray to all the saints I remembered from my childhood, but every morning and every night the doctors would say there were no changes. One day I was standing outside the incubator room - I was trying to visit you, but you were having a particular nasty episode and the nurses were flustered - and I remembered that my grandmother said that the Holy Death would help when none of the other saints would. So there, looking at you, I prayed for her to not come and reap you. To let you live, to let you grow up, to let you live your life. I promised her that I'd raise you to be the kind of man that would live his life to the fullest."

"Mom..."

"Nothing happened. You still had your episode and I honestly was on the verge of giving up. That night, however, the nurse told me that you had come out of it pretty well, and definitely, slowly but surely, your health started improving. It was not an overnight change, mind you - you were still in the incubator for another week, and that's why I never thought it was a miracle. The logical side of my brain attributed it to the medication - after all, I'm a nurse - and I forgot about the prayer I had said in my mind."

"But you never offered him? You never asked her to be his godmother?" Derek immediately caught on what Lydia was asking - she was looking for a loophole.

"I did. I called her _comadre_. That's the epithet Catholic parents, particularly from Spain, Portugal and what were their territories in the 1600's call the godparents of their children. By calling her that name -"

"You named her my godmother."

"Yes."

"Why are you so afraid?" The Sheriff was half hugging, half comforting her. The pack was all on her side of the table, having moved during her story. Only Peter remained on the opposite side, rejected as usual. "Isn't a godmother supposed to help raise a child, according to Catholic traditions?"

"True. However, when you pray to Death you are agreeing to a deal. Death is final, it's not avoidable. You can't pray to Death for immortality, it doesn't work that way. There has to be a balance. If you ask for something, you need to give something in return. And so far she hasn't collected."

"Nothing? Didn't you go and gave offerings a couple of weeks ago?" Erica asked, mentioning the trip to L.A. Melissa, John and Chris had done.

"Seventeen years later. I'm not sure they were enough."

"Did I mention how I wish something would happen? This is gonna be getting in our nerves." Scott had invaded Melissa's personal space, and honestly, Derek wanted to be right there too - everybody was willing to create a wolf pile right there, but they had a comfortable den upstairs where they could do so later that night, and half the people sitting in that table had homework. He mentioned it to the group who all nodded, if not agreeable, at least understanding. 

"Oh, mom, that reminds me! The new counselor said she needs to talk to you - I got into AP Calc, but she wants to discuss any problems I may have taking the class."

"Crap - I can't this week, I'm already signed up for shifts. Did she say if it was urgent?"

"Do you want me to go?" John asked. "As long as you give me a legal permit I can do it."

"Would you? That would be great." Melissa and the Sheriff kissed.

"I'm on drafting the document!" Stiles said, running upstairs to his computer. They all followed suit, Scott asking Lydia about the L'Hopital rule - math, if Derek remembered correctly, while Cora stayed behind. 

"Lydia?" His sister asked the girl before she could disappear with Scott. "Would you mind unlocking Peter's mouth? I wanna ask him some stuff."

"About what?" Lydia asked - not because she was going to deny the permit, they could see that in her face - but because she was genuinely interested.

"About our family. About the Hales." Lydia smiled in understanding.

"Peter, answer whatever she asks. Honestly, and with as little detours as possible."

"Yes, mistress."

Derek looked at Cora, confused. What did she want to know about the family that she didn't know yet?

The fact that Erica and Boyd stayed with her made him stay as well.


	9. Epilogue

"Yes, it was that easy. No, McCall doesn't suspect anything. We'll be able to sneak more of our guys without a problem. Yes, he is from the supernatural division. I'm not sure about the local department, though, the way they interacted was way too headstrong - they may suspect us if we act too much out of line. Yes, ma'am, I confirmed the relations between Christopher and the Sheriff - they are good friends at least. I totally suspect the Sheriff knows about the supernatural, but I do not know the extent of his involvement. No, ma'am, they haven't pinpointed the string of murders on a werewolf - they apparently had a Darach locked up. Still, no word on the Warrens - the woman is arrested, but her trial hasn't started yet. Yes, sir, I'll do a surveillance."

The man was undoing his tie - he hated posing as a FBI agent, always too stuffy and the clothes itched. He was a hunter made for the hunt, not the stalk. 

But they couldn't risk sending any of their usual vigilantes - Christopher could recognize them and spot them for what they were doing. Hunting the werewolves of Beacon Hills. 

Gerard had contacted them recently. Apparently his disease kept getting worse, limiting his moments of lucidity between the pain to very few and very far in between, but there was a period when Chris dropped his guard on him and he was able to contact them. It's not that he wanted revenge, he had said, but that they needed to clean the scourge of werewolves that plagued his daughter's grave. 

For family, they were all willing to complain. Particularly after that brat had said that the code was to be changed. Like she knew what she was talking about. 

"OK. Yeah, I'll be here. McCall is still waiting for some reinforcements - he said that the ones that he had had been compromised by one of the witches spells. He also said that the power coming from the woods had started to settle, so we'll have to work with them. No, I don't know who they are. Yes, I'll keep my ears up. Alright. Talk to you later."

He pocketed the phone and the tie. He'd decided to walk back to his hotel in an attempt to scout the territory. It seemed so... normal. Like nothing had happened the previous months. People were kind to each other, they smiled, they felt normal. He wished he could adopt another persona and blend in a different manner, to see why they looked like _nothing_ could go wrong. 

The click clack of heels snapped his attention. 

Some twenty feet ahead of him, what could only be described as a svelte woman was walking, black pencil skirt, gorgeous blazer covering her shoulders, a flower in her black hair. He suddenly forgot he was scouting, and all he wanted to do was to reach her, talk to her, maybe even take her back to his place. 

He started towards her. 

But he couldn't get to her. 

She kept walking under the moonlight, and the rhythm of the heels never changed, but she was always twenty feet ahead of him, entering and leaving the pools of light under the street lamps, shadows shifting around her feet. He wanted almost to run, but he knew that if anyone saw them he'd look like a creeper stalking a young girl, and all he wanted was to steal a smile from her. 

One of the streetlamps went out, and he saw her disappear into the darkness. He stayed where he was, in the pool of light, thinking why he had followed her so relentlessly. Was she a witch? A ghost? 

He shook it off. He needed to sleep well if he wanted to keep the charade in front of McCall. 

When he turned, the woman was in front of him, the most beautiful smile he had seen in his life, the most beautiful face he could remember, the golden flower shining in her hair. 

He smiled at her. Maybe he could talk to her, ask her her name, ask her why she was all alone at night in a dangerous town as this. 

She touched his cheek, like she wanted to trap his smile.

"Oh dear. The things I do for my children."

He couldn't move. He felt weak, tired. He fell on his knees, fear at the sight in front of him. 

Afraid of the smile that had no lips. Afraid of the face that had no nose. Afraid of the sockets that had no eyes. 

Afraid of the skeleton that watched him die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, and this season has opened!


End file.
